About Me

Change. I've learned to embrace it, ride it out til the end. Sometimes I'm kicking and screaming, other times weeping with my eyes clinched tight. Once in awhile I ride like a dog in a car, head out the window snorting what life has to offer. Mother to young adult children, a marriage of thirty years, and a desert to mountain to valley waltz with God have shaped me into someone I never imagined I'd be. Life is short and I want to live it. Tears, sighs, laughter and change. Every morsel granted to me. Scrambled, shaken or stirred.

Monday, May 14, 2012

Ha. Ha. Just call me Les Nessman. If
you don’t get that, WKRP in Cincinnati. If that doesn’t do anything for
you, then just move on, there’s nothing for you to see in this
paragraph, folks.

The
farm was abounding in a plethora of produce once again. (Yes. Blew
through two vocab words there.) This time there was no picking for us.
We jumped into the washing/packing mode immediately. We were a bit
short-staffed. The CSA has grown considerably since last year. Tuesdays
of 2011 involved 12 or 13 whole shares and 12 or 13 half shares
depending on the day. We had three/four packers/pickers working most
Tuesdays.

2012
brings 12 whole shares and 27 half shares. Uh, yeah. Let me break down
what a share is. A community supported or sustained agriculture share (CSA) is
a fixed price and a fixed number of weeks. A purchaser buys a full share which costs our subscribers $550 for
the season or a half share which is $300. (I may be slightly off, but
those are the numbers I’m using. So deal. Ha. Ha.) This fee is paid upon
entering into the relationship and guarantees the farmer a seasonal
income and gives her some upfront money to buy seeds, pay staff, buy
wood chips, fencing, all that stuff that goes into running a farm.) In
exchange the purchaser gets a box (or a box+ during produce busting
weeks). The half share is exactly half of a full share. So if a full
share gets a pound of asparagus, the half share gets ½. Our share is a
volunteer share which means we work our little fingers to the bone for
our goodie box. (If you want this kind of arrangement in your neck of
the woods google CSA in your town and ask if they do volunteer shares,
so worth it especially if you love getting dirty etc.) Another benefit to
our arrangement is that sometimes we have extras that we can take like
mildly bruised, misshapen or superabundant goodies.) The full shares work out to about 25 bucks a week. This prepurchases
pounds of produce. Example last Tuesday = a pound of asparagus. ½ pound
of spinach, lettuce (each), a handful of radishes and green garlic. A Napa cabbage that weighed about three pounds, kale and chard and some
rosemary and sage. And all of this is as fresh and local as it gets and
ORGANIC. Yeah. Definitely worth the price. Especially when it works out
to about $4.00 a pound. And this was a light week.

Okay back to my original story.
So washing, packing and sorting for 39 boxes. Oy. Let’s just say it
took awhile. Oh. We get a trail mix snack that is lovingly put together
by one of the Farmers, I am going to call her Grasshopper because she
learns well from #1 Farmer (another cultural/media reference…) And sun
tea. : ). We expect this. Trust me. And she delivers.

While
we were packing away the #1 Farmer came in from the field and dropped
into a chair. She picked the entire five hours that we little mice prepped. She ate
her snack.

And then we entered the Twilight Zone. Strange things began to happen.

#1
Farmer suddenly noticed little grubs on her hand. We see bugs. Every week. Some are good bugs like the Lady Bugs who are escorted back out into the big outdoors. Others are quickly dispatched. Most items are immersed in water, spun dried, handled several times and packed. So these mystery bugs? None of us had seen them, knew
from whence they came or what their mission was. Like they just
materialized from the air. Mystery #1. Then as we
began closing up the boxes and loading them into their proper place, #1 Farmer lifted one and water poured out of
it. Not dripped, poured. Everything stopped. We stared at it. I think
each of us kind of wondered if the water might turn into blood or pea
soup or grubs or something equally disturbing. Being a practical woman,
the farmer opened the box, took out the contents and looked at the bags.
Nothing. Mystery #2.

Driving
home we scanned the horizon for unfamiliar landmarks and reoccurring
visuals of black cats. (media reference...Matrix – again, if you don’t get it, just move
forward.)

On Wednesday
Mystery #2 was solved when & picked up a peeing carton. The Napa cabbage...the little buggars held their
water well. Actually, not so well. But with comic timing and slightly
awkward results.